


The Angel In My Bed

by lionfish13



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Canon Era, Canon Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship/Love, Gay Sex, Happy Ending, Humor, Kissing, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Premature Ejaculation, Requited Love, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex, Sexual Tension, Wing Kink, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 13:51:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13952940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionfish13/pseuds/lionfish13
Summary: Merlin grows a pair of wings!Based on the following prompt from the new Merlin Kinkmeme:'Either Merlin or Arthur wake up one morning to find that they've started growing wings. Naturally, they panic: quite apart from anything else, at some point it's going to become obvious what's going on, and there's no way they can pretend that magic isn't involved. To make matters worse (or better), however, they soon discover that their new appendages are very...sensitive. One might even say they've developed a whole new set of erogenous zones...'





	The Angel In My Bed

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this fic came from the following prompt at the new 'Kinks of Camelot' Merlin Kinkmeme (https://kinksofcamelot.livejournal.com/1806.html) - please check it out, there are loads of awesome prompts still waiting to be filled!
> 
> Prompt:
> 
> 'Either Merlin or Arthur wake up one morning to find that they've started growing wings. Naturally, they panic: quite apart from anything else, at some point it's going to become obvious what's going on, and there's no way they can pretend that magic isn't involved. To make matters worse (or better), however, they soon discover that their new appendages are very...sensitive. One might even say they've developed a whole new set of erogenous zones...'
> 
> Warning: This fic gets very explicit.

It started out as a curious itch in the middle of Merlin’s back. Difficult to reach by his own hand, it kept niggling at him, a gentle irritation that no amount of scratching (by Gaius, once, who then refused to repeat the action, and by Gwen twice, because she was nicer), nor any amount of shimmying against the rough stone of the castle walls could quench (Arthur threw him a concerned look that time).

After a week of itching, Merlin stood in his room, his tunic tossed to the side, and stretched his arm back over his shoulder as far as he could reach, patting his hand over his skin haphazardly. His fingers suddenly brushed over a strange ridge just under and to the left of his right shoulder blade, and with that light touch, a jolt sizzled across his body, a strange sensation that tingled, an almost-pleasure but not quite… Merlin gasped in surprise, and shivered. He turned his head to try to see the strange bump that had appeared on his back but couldn’t quite stretch his neck enough; he had walked on the spot in an almost full circle before realising he was never going to see his own back, so instead he reached around again to try to see through touch. Stretching back his left arm this time, he jerked and squeaked when his fingers found a second ridge, seemingly parallel to the first, which also shot a frisson of electricity through his body no less potent than before.

Panting slightly, Merlin perched on the edge of his bed and rested his trembling arms on his knees. Whatever was growing on his back was still itching but now the whole area was tingling. Whilst the sensation wasn’t wholly unpleasant, Merlin couldn’t help but feel anxious; what the hell was on his back and how could he get rid of it?

 

***

 

The answer was obviously to talk to Gaius. Naturally, Merlin didn’t. He had meant to, but Gaius was kept very busy over the following few days with an outbreak of sickness in the lower town, so Merlin barely saw him except to receive instructions to forage for more herbs as Gaius’ supplies dwindled dangerously low by the end of each day.

Then, after four or five days had passed and the sickness seemed to be under control, Merlin woke up determined to speak to Gaius, sat up in bed and almost oozed off the bed as the gentle brush of his sleeping tunic against the ridges on his back sent a thousand sparks of tantalising fire shooting up his neck, along his arms to the point of each finger and even out to the tips of his toes. He sat on the floor, gasping, eyes squeezed shut, his brain shorted out, and when he eventually came back to awareness, his fingers were gripping the floor and his cock was jutting up underneath his tunic.

Merlin sat unmoving, willing his erection to go down, and the sound of Gaius moving about and muttering to himself just next door was a useful distraction to his predicament and he soon was back to being decent again. Shifting carefully, he rose from the cold stone floor and gingerly changed into his working clothes, then set out for a day of serving Prince Arthur.

  


***

 

Arthur, Merlin noticed, had quite a lot of shiny, reflective, metallic things in his room, which was quite convenient when Merlin himself didn’t own a mirror and so had no other way to look at his own back. Inconveniently, Arthur had a lot of paperwork to catch up on and wasn’t planning on leaving his room any time soon. Merlin drifted around for a while, picking up dirty clothes from the floor, smoothing out Arthur’s bedclothes and pretending to dust, but he could tell after a while that Arthur was finding him a distraction and starting to get suspicious. Giving up on swiping Arthur’s dinner plate to use as a makeshift mirror, he resigned himself to the arduous task of polishing Arthur’s armour as a means of both killing time and increasing the number of shiny objects that he could potentially make off with and use to examine his back.

He seated himself unobtrusively in the corner of Arthur’s chamber and concentrated on removing all the dirty marks and blemishes staining Arthur’s breastplate. He worked slowly, conscious that every swipe of his arm caused his shirt to shift against the sensitive ridges on his back and unwilling to suffer the same effect here in front of Arthur as he had experienced that morning in his room. 

At first Arthur seemed a little disconcerted by Merlin’s conscientious effort and his silence, but as the morning wore on, both became fully absorbed in their own work and the silence became calm and companionable. The day passed easily enough and it wasn’t until dinnertime when Merlin ran once more into a spot of bother.

King Uther had called for a feast. Merlin usually felt a mixture of emotions whenever there was a feast. On the one hand, they called for more work on his part; on the other, there was usually more food leftover afterwards and he was quite adept at foraging for scraps, plus Arthur was more likely to end the evening rather squiffy, which was always fun. Tonight, however, Merlin wished desperately that it had been just Arthur, Morgana and the King eating together, as the Great Hall was full to overflowing, not only with the lords and ladies feasting, but with the servants serving, rushing to and fro, fetching and carrying and clearing and, most importantly and overwhelmingly, knocking into Merlin and shouldering past him with their damned hard elbows bumping and scraping his back.

The lightest brush of his tunic against those curious ridges had set Merlin afire with a thrilling sensation; the knocks he was now receiving had him in agony. At first he had tried to bear it, had dropped a pitcher of wine and then a tray of sausages onto the floor as he had tried to serve his master, but the piercing sensation soon became too much and Merlin had no choice but to resort to standing unmoving with his back to the wall so that the other servants couldn’t bump into him anymore. Gwen, quickly catching on, gave him a quizzical look but kindly took over serving Arthur as well as Morgana and Merlin thought he had got away with it until he and Arthur were nearly back at Arthur’s chambers.

“Want to tell me what was going on tonight, Merlin?” Arthur asked through clenched teeth as they approached his chamber door. He turned his head and stared pointedly at Merlin, one eyebrow quirked up. Merlin’s heart missed a beat.

“What are you talking about, sire?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“I’m too tired to play games tonight, Merlin. You know very well what I’m talking about. You dropped half the feast on the floor within the first ten minutes and then the next time I look up, Guinevere is serving me whilst you cower at the edge of the room. You’re my servant, __you__ were supposed to be serving me, not her. What was going on?”

Arthur had stalked into his room and suddenly spun on the spot to stare fixedly at Merlin. Merlin forced his mouth into a grin, though he couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t just managed a grimace instead, and darted away from Arthur towards his bed. Turning down the sheets, he then rummaged around for Arthur’s nightwear.

“I…uh… It was all that rich food, the smell, you know, it just suddenly made me feel a bit sick, that’s all,” he managed.

“You don’t normally get sick at the smell of sausages, in fact usually I find you making off with mine!” Arthur retorted, his forehead creasing at the thought of Merlin feeling sick.

“Well…,” Merlin thought quickly, “I think these ones might have been more herby than usual. Either that, or Gaius’ stew earlier was bad.”

He reluctantly walked up to Arthur and deliberately focussed on undressing him and helping him into his nightshirt so that he didn’t have to look into his face. Arthur’s head popped up through the top of the shirt, and he looked carefully at Merlin’s face as he pushed his arms through the sleeves.

“Are you feeling any better now? You should get to bed, get some rest.” Merlin’s head shot up at the unexpected concern in Arthur’s voice and Arthur flushed and added, “After all, I need you to wake me early tomorrow, I’ve got a hard training session planned for the knights.”

Merlin nodded. “Don’t worry, sire, I feel much better now, I’ll be back to normal tomorrow.” It was true, now that he was away from the servants pushing past him, the throbbing in his back had settled down again into the consistent thrumming itch that he had started to get used to. “If that’s all for tonight, sire…?” he continued, raising his eyebrow in a silent question to Arthur.

“That’s all, Merlin, you may go.”

And as Merlin turned to pass Arthur on his way out, Arthur’s hand clapped him on the shoulder and trailed down the centre of Merlin’s back. The noise that burst out of Merlin’s mouth could only be described as something half way between a high pitched gasp and a sultry moan. Shocked, his head whipped around to stare at Arthur who was looking at him with eyes wide, mouth hanging open, hand hovering over Merlin’s back.

Merlin felt as though all the blood in his body had shot to his polar ends, half flooding his cheeks and turning him tomato red, the other half rushing straight to his groin.

He fled.

 

***

 

Three days later and he still hadn’t had a chance to re-purpose any of Arthur’s shiny possessions to examine his back. The main reason was that, following his involuntary reaction to Arthur’s touch, he had done his best to keep away from Arthur as much as possible, which also meant staying away from his chambers. Arthur hadn’t commented on it, in fact he had been giving Merlin fewer chores than usual and seemed happy enough for Merlin to keep his distance.

Merlin finally had his opportunity now, however. He had woken Arthur earlier than usual (and with more difficulty than usual) as Arthur wanted to fit in a short training session with the knights before an envoy from Mercia was due to arrive at lunchtime. He had helped Arthur into his armour with nimble, practised fingers, the two of them studiously avoiding each other’s eyes the whole time and Arthur’s arms held firmly by his sides, and as soon as Arthur was ready he had strode out of the room and left Merlin to tidy his bed.

Merlin had tidied at first, in case Arthur had forgotten anything and came straight back, but once it seemed long enough that Arthur was surely now ensconced in training, Merlin checked that the door was fully closed and tipped the remains of Arthur’s breakfast off his plate and the serving tray, using his sleeve to scrape away any crumbs.

He quickly untied his neckerchief and then gently peeled off his brown jacket and rough, blue tunic. Holding Arthur’s polished breakfast plate in front of him, he positioned the silver serving tray just behind his back and adjusted the angles until he could get a good look at his back.

He sucked in a deep breath. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing; what he had first felt with his fumbling fingers more than a week ago had been two short, solid ridges in the centre of his back. Due to their great sensitivity and his intense reaction to any stimulation, Merlin had avoided touching them since, but the throbbing itch had been persistent and Merlin hadn’t really noticed that the area that was itching had grown. Yet grown it had, for the two ridges had elongated down his back and were jutting out further, the skin stretched taut over what looked like a very fine bone structure, and, dusting over every inch that he could see in the cloudy reflection, were what looked like very short, thin, downy __feathers__.

Feathers. Oh god. He was growing a pair of wings.

Merlin was frozen; he stared, wide eyed, at his back in the reflection. He had wings.

The thought popped into his head that __he would be able to fly!__  And how amazing would that be, to swoop and glide over the turrets of Camelot! A bright grin flitted briefly over his face until, a second later, the truth of the matter hit him. He would never be able to fly over Camelot, or anywhere else within Uther’s borders where anyone might look up and see him. Hiding the fact that he was a sorcerer was difficult enough, he had no idea how large these wings would grow - big enough to bear a fully grown man into the air. What was he going to do, how could he possibly hide this?

It had to be stopped.

A familiar stride resounding along the corridor outside jerked Merlin out of his panicked thoughts and he dropped Arthur’s dishes with a loud clang and had just yanked his tunic back on and grabbed at his jacket and neckerchief when Arthur threw open the door to his chambers, stopping short at the sight of Merlin.

He stared at him, his eyes sweeping over Merlin’s body, noting his ruddy cheeks, heaving breast and dishevelled state of dress. His gaze settled on Merlin’s tatty neckerchief crumpled in his hand and he flicked his eyes up to Merlin’s exposed throat and then met his eyes. Merlin bit his lip and tried to look innocent.

“Er, what are you doing?” Arthur asked. “And what was that crash I heard?”

“I, um, I dropped the plate, sorry.”

“And that explains why you’re half-undressed?” Arthur quirked an eyebrow, but quickly dropped his eyes as though embarrassed at the thought of Merlin in a state of undress. He strode forward and swooped down to pick up the plate at Merlin’s feet, moving past him to place it on the table.

“I felt a sudden tickle, I thought maybe a, uh, a spider or, or something had got in under my jacket,” Merlin fudged, his mind racing. Unbidden, Arthur’s eyes flew to Merlin’s back and he flushed. Merlin felt his own cheeks reddening and he quickly changed the subject, yanking his jacket on over his tunic as he did so, wincing as the rough fabric pressed against what he now knew were the beginnings of a __pair of wings__.

“What-” he began, his voice coming out slightly hoarse. “What are you doing back here already anyway? I thought you’d be making the most of the morning to train the knights before the Mercian envoy arrived?”

This distracted Arthur, who suddenly scowled.

“The damn man’s already arrived. I’d barely got started. I wanted to have a good session on maces today, but we barely got past the footwork. He’s at least three hours earlier than expected. It’s rude to arrive so early, if you ask me. Come on, Merlin, get this armour off me. I could still use a bath as well, so fetch some hot water too.”

Merlin went to work, and the rest of the day passed with him scurrying after Arthur and helping the other servants with the extra work that came with hosting foreign dignitaries. Still, his mind constantly flitted back to thoughts of what he had seen growing on his back, and by the end of the day Arthur was clearly getting frustrated with how absent-minded and distracted Merlin had become.

When Arthur had finally settled to sleep and Merlin could flee back to the privacy of his small room in Gaius’ chambers, he breathed a great sigh of relief. Peeling off his tunic once more, he cautiously reached back an arm and began to explore the burgeoning wings with tentative fingers.

The feathers were soft to the touch. Merlin ran one of his fingers upwards, ruffling the short feathers gently, and gave a shiver at the sensation. One of the feathers dislodged and he caught sight of it as it floated silently down onto the floor. It was a very pale grey at the base, whitening at the tip, and he picked it up reverently and sank down to sit on the edge of his bed as he examined it closely, twirling it between his fingers, but no matter what paths his thoughts took, he still came to no answers for why the wings had started to grow or how to make them disappear again.

Resorting to looking for help in his books, Merlin snuggled down into his bed and began to flick through the pages. He was exhausted though, and soon was battling to keep his eyes open. Unable to resist any longer, Merlin shut the book and shoved it underneath his bed and, heaving a deep sigh, finally permitted himself to slip into sleep.

  


***

 

It wasn’t the first time Merlin had overslept. Although he always made sure to complain and tell Merlin off, Arthur didn’t usually punish Merlin for oversleeping. He knew his manservant worked himself to the bone, looking after Arthur while also being Gaius’ apprentice, and so long as it didn’t happen too often, Arthur was willing to let it slide. Besides, Arthur himself quite enjoyed an occasional lie in and sometimes appreciated when Merlin’s lateness allowed him to catch up on a bit of extra sleep too. 

Arthur didn’t appreciate Merlin oversleeping when the pompous, supercilious envoy from Mercia was waiting for him, however.

He burst open the door to Gaius’ empty workshop and strode angrily across to Merlin’s bedroom. Slamming the door open, he fixed the most furious glare that he could muster onto his face and used his booted foot to push at Merlin’s hip.

If he hadn’t been so angry, he would have found Merlin’s reaction hilarious. Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin, twisting and thrashing underneath his tangled bed sheet, then tumbling off the side and landing with a thud on the floor in front of Arthur.

“Wha-what?” He mumbled sleepily as his clumsy feet finally found purchase on the floor and he dragged himself upright, facing the wall, the sheet slipping from his narrow frame.

Arthur felt his anger drain away along with the blood from his face as he caught sight of Merlin’s back. He swayed with shock, his throat suddenly feeling tight, his heart too big for his chest. Merlin spun around and saw him, and Arthur could see the moment when fear caught up to Merlin, his eyes growing wide and his mouth dropping open.

“Arthur-” Merlin whispered, his voice gravelly and hoarse.

“What the hell-” Arthur gasped. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Was that a pair of wings - __wings! -__  on Merlin’s back? On __Merlin’s__  back, Merlin, his daft, clumsy, innocent manservant? What manner of creature was he?!

Merlin was breathing hard. A look of pain flashed across his face and he raised his hands, palms out towards Arthur, to placate or defend Arthur didn’t know.

“Arthur, please… I can explain… Or, well, really, I __can’t__ explain, I have no idea what they are, __why__  they are,” Merlin began.

Arthur snarled, his hands curling into fists. “You have __wings__ , Merlin!” he spat.

“I know!” Merlin burst. “They’ve been growing over the last week, I don’t know why! I swear, Arthur, I __swear!__  I don’t want them! I…I…” Merlin stuttered into silence. His breaths became short pants as the horror of the situation caught up with him, and he placed trembling hands on his knees, bending over as he tried to catch his breath. “Arthur… please…” he whispered again.

Arthur’s body felt rigid. He forced himself to move his stiff limbs to stand in front of Merlin. Grasping his trembling arms, he pulled Merlin upright and peered closely into his terrified face.

“I don’t know what to do… I don’t know where they came from… or how to get rid of them… Help me… please…” Merlin whispered, pleading. He raised earnest eyes to Arthur’s, and Arthur felt a little of the tension leave his body. Merlin was telling the truth, he was sure of it. He was an idiot, for sure, but not so much of a fool to unwittingly condemn himself by magicking a pair of wings onto himself.

Arthur suddenly realised how tightly he was gripping Merlin. He forced his fingers to relax, worried that he’d already have left bruises on Merlin’s pale skin. Clearing his throat, he took a step back and gave Merlin a firm nod.

“I believe you.”

Merlin’s eyes fluttered closed at Arthur’s utterance and he sagged slightly in his grasp.

“Turn around,” Arthur instructed.

Merlin’s eyes flew open again and he stared at Arthur. “What?”

“I need to see them properly. We need to understand what we’re dealing with. This is an incredibly dangerous situation you’re in, Merlin, if my father finds out you’ve got wings, he won’t wait for excuses, you’ll burn this very day! Turn around!”

Merlin breathed out heavily, then bowed his head and slowly turned his back towards Arthur once more. “They’re still short, for now, but they’ve been growing for a week. I have no idea how big they’ll get.” His voice turned a bit squeaky at the thought. “The feathers started growing yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Arthur’s voice was sharp, confused. “Merlin, they’re already about three inches long.”

“What?” Merlin spun around to stare at Arthur. “But… but one fell out last night, it was only about as long as my fingernail. They can’t grow that fast! Can they?” he asked anxiously.

“How should I know?!” Arthur replied hotly. “I don’t know how these things work. But they’re that long now, give it a day or two and everyone will know about it. You __cannot__  let anyone find out about this, Merlin!”

“I know that!” Merlin snapped.

“Well, you let me wander in and find you hardly dressed, your back on show for anyone to see!” Arthur retorted, then abruptly went silent. Merlin flushed and ducked his head. “Turn around,” Arthur repeated for the third time, softly.

When Merlin had turned his back to Arthur once more, Arthur stepped closer to examine the fledgling wings more closely. “Can you move them?” he murmured, his breath ghosting against Merlin’s skin, causing him to shiver.

Merlin hadn’t tried before, but he concentrated and tried to reach out to the new appendages lining his back. Before Arthur’s eyes, the thin wings stretched out, the white feathers splaying gracefully against the smooth, pale skin of Merlin’s back. He gasped in wonder; as much as he had been taught to hate all magic and was both angry and terrified for Merlin, he could not help but find the flawless wings beautiful.

“How big are they now?” Merlin asked with a tremulous voice.

“They run from about the top of your shoulder blades to your lower ribs, and with them spread out like this can’t you feel the feathers brushing your arms?” Arthur replied. Reaching out, he trailed a light finger from the top of where one of the wings emerged from Merlin’s back to the base. Merlin gasped in surprise and gave a great shudder. He turned his head sharply to the side and said hoarsely, “Arthur!”

Arthur felt overwhelmed with curiosity. He placed his thumb and forefinger at the base of one of the feathers and ran them lightly along its full silken length. Merlin moaned and his knees buckled and Arthur had to grab his elbows to hold him up.

“Merlin!” he said worriedly, “Are you all right? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Merlin sidled across to perch on the edge of his bed, his arms held in front of him. He glanced sidelong at Arthur, a deep, rosy flush spreading across his collarbone and up his neck. “You didn’t hurt me, don’t worry,” he reassured Arthur, his voice deep and throaty. The wings fluttered.

Arthur sat down next to him, their knees brushing. “Are you sure?” he asked, his hand hovering over Merlin’s back but not touching him. “You were very sensitive when I touched your back a few days ago, did I hurt you then?”

“No, you haven’t hurt me at all, Arthur,” Merlin stressed, still not able to look him straight in the eye. He hunched into himself, his hands clasped in his lap.

Arthur found his eyes drawn back to the wings. He moved his hand closer to them, though still hesitant to touch, when the wings fluttered again and the tips of the feathers brushed against his palm. Merlin moaned again involuntarily and Arthur snapped his head to look at him. Merlin had his eyes pressed shut, but after a moment he slowly opened them again and turned his head to look at Arthur. Arthur hadn’t realised until that moment how closely they were sitting. Merlin’s pupils were blown wide and his breathing had sped up. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips and Arthur’s eyes were captured by the movement. He stopped thinking and instinctively leaned forwards, closing the short gap between them and pressing his lips to Merlin’s.

Merlin didn’t move. He sat, frozen, and Arthur quickly pulled back, checking Merlin’s face in case he had misjudged. There was surprise there, but what Arthur had taken for desire was still there and the surprise was rapidly fading and being replaced by what Arthur hoped was hunger.

Merlin surprised him this time by suddenly leaning forward and kissing him, and before either of them could stop to think, their hands had scrambled to slip into soft hair or cup the other’s face, and Arthur could feel Merlin’s hot tongue pressing against his. They kissed for a long time, gasping breaths whenever they could and returning to taste each other’s mouths eagerly. Merlin ran hungry hands up and down Arthur’s muscular chest and then reached around his waist and tugged him closer. Arthur responded by wrapping his arms around Merlin and his strong hands slid firmly up his back and across the expanse of each wing, his splayed fingers gliding through the silky feathers.

Merlin tore his mouth from Arthur’s with a deep moan and tensed and jerked in his arms. Eyes squeezed shut, he rested his forehead against Arthur’s, his body still stiff for a long moment until he sagged, boneless and panting, against Arthur.

“Sorry…” he whispered.

Arthur pulled back, confused. His hungry eyes swept over Merlin’s body and at the sight of the telltale wet stain at Merlin’s crotch, he suddenly realised what had happened. His mouth dropped open.

“Did you…” he trailed off. “What-? From me touching the wings?” he asked, surprised.

“They’re very sensitive!” Merlin replied defensively.

Suddenly, they heard the sound of the door to the workshop opening and Gaius calling Merlin’s name.

“Oh crap,” Merlin burst out, on full alert once more. He jumped up from the bed and grabbed the tunic he had discarded the day before, yanking it over his head. He quickly changed his trousers too; as mucky as he often got, he would be hard pressed to explain away a stain like that.

Arthur watched him, dumbfounded, as Merlin made to leave the room.

“Hang on, wait!” he hissed. “You can’t leave me like…like… _ _this!”__  He gestured at his crotch, where his arousal was straining against the thin fabric of his sleeping trousers.

Merlin stared at him for a long moment and then shrugged sheepishly. “I’m really sorry! But Gaius will be bursting in here any second, it’s too risky! I’ll make it up to you!” With that promise, he darted out through the door, just managing to intercept Gaius whose foot was already mid-air on its way up the step into Merlin’s room.

 

***

 

The rest of the day was one of the longest of Arthur’s life. He spent the morning sitting in boring diplomatic discussions with his father, the court advisers and the Mercian envoy and then had to endure the envoy’s company through the afternoon as he escorted him on a tour of Camelot.

All the while, he was acutely aware of Merlin’s presence, standing behind him ready to serve refreshments during the meeting, his sleeve brushing against Arthur’s shoulder as he topped up his goblet, walking behind him as they strolled through the lower town. Arthur kept catching glimpses of Merlin’s bright smile beaming out at everyone as they passed amongst the townsfolk. After the way they had left things that morning, Arthur couldn’t help being distracted by him; every time Merlin had refilled his goblet, Arthur had watched his fingers and remembered the feel of them running through his hair. Every smile drew his attention to Merlin’s plush lips, and he had a flashback to them red and swollen from their kisses. Each time their eyes met, Arthur remembered the look of desire in Merlin’s eyes as he had reached for Arthur, but most of all Arthur simply could not shake from his mind the way that Merlin had come undone just at the gentle brush of Arthur’s fingers along the wings sprouting on his back. He had to battle his body’s reaction every time the wayward image popped into his head.

When the day finally came to an end, Arthur practically marched Merlin back to his rooms, and the moment the door was shut behind him, Arthur gave in to the temptation and grabbed the front of Merlin’s tunic, dragging him against him and claiming his mouth hungrily.

Merlin puffed a breath in surprise against Arthur’s lips and then took it in his stride, reaching up to cup Arthur’s face in his warm hands. When they broke apart a minute later, Merlin leaned back and looked carefully at Arthur, an amused, knowing expression on his face.

“You’re a bit keen,” he said, quirking an eyebrow and grinning.

Arthur frowned. “What do you expect after the way you left me this morning?” he replied gruffly, his hands moving to Merlin’s hips and gripping him tightly. “Come on, bed!” He started tugging Merlin towards the four poster bed. Merlin followed obediently. As they stumbled across, he leaned forward and pressed light kisses to Arthur’s neck.

“We’re wearing too many clothes,” he murmured into his ear.

“Well, undressing me is part of your job description,” Arthur gasped, and then began a flurry of fumbling hands and discarded clothes, until they fell together upon the rich, red sheets, their smooth, bare skin pressed together as close as they could get. Arthur found Merlin’s mouth once more and tangled their tongues together, moaning at the sensation.

Merlin was gripping Arthur’s shoulders, his nails digging in and leaving faint, red semi-circles. He shifted his hips and felt Arthur’s hard cock rub against his own. He ground his hips down and tore his mouth away from Arthur’s, moving to lick and suck at his neck and collarbone.

Arthur ran his hands through Merlin’s thick, black hair and down over his shoulders and arms. Pushing on his arms, he manoeuvred Merlin until he was sitting in his lap, his legs splayed either side of Arthur. Holding Merlin’s gaze, Arthur trailed a light hand over his chest and stomach to finally curl around Merlin’s cock and give it a gentle tug. Merlin’s moist lips parted at the sensation and his eyes glittered with pleasure. Leaning forward to kiss Arthur, Merlin wrapped his hand around Arthur’s cock and began to jerk him in return. They gasped between kisses, Merlin writhing in Arthur’s lap as Arthur’s thumb teased the pre-cum out of the head of his cock. After a while, however, Arthur, who had been feeling pent up all day, began to feel like he was getting too close.

Pulling away from Merlin’s enticing lips, he stilled Merlin’s hand on his cock and encouraged him to move off his lap. Merlin complied, though he was a bit confused what Arthur wanted to do. It soon became clear; Arthur moved behind Merlin and carefully, tenderly began to trace his fingers along each long feathered wing that had spread out and was fluttering on his back. Merlin’s cock twitched and he groaned at the teasing sensation. He had mourned the loss of Arthur’s hand wrapped around his cock, but feeling those thick, strong fingers so gently rubbing and stroking along his wings felt almost overwhelmingly good, and he quickly gripped the base of his cock to prevent himself coming too soon for the second time that day.

It was good that he did so, for Arthur decided then to lean forward and press his face between Merlin’s wings; his tongue dipped out and he licked a gentle, wet trail up the ridge where one wing met Merlin’s back and down the other. He mouthed at the sensitive joints as his fingers skimmed down Merlin’s trembling sides to curl around his hips, pulling Merlin flush against him so that his cock nestled between Merlin’s buttocks. One hand slipping around, Arthur tugged at the head of Merlin’s cock as he gyrated his own hips against him, his harsh breath ruffling the soft feathers of Merlin’s wings.

Merlin had become a quivering, whimpering mess; eyes squeezed shut, he gripped the bed sheet with his free hand and moaned Arthur’s name like a litany.

Arthur leaned Merlin forward onto all fours and pressed small kisses and licks all the way down his back and between the cleft of his buttocks, until his tongue began to tease at his hole. Spitting on his fingers to lubricate them, Arthur carefully worked Merlin open, taking it slowly while Merlin acclimatised to the sensation. He rubbed his other hand over the small of his back, then smoothed his fingers over Merlin’s wings while the fingers inside him curled, making Merlin jerk and whimper once more.

Arthur felt almost ready to burst just from touching Merlin. When Merlin finally began to push back on his fingers, he deemed him ready and pulled back from him, moving to settle back against his pillows. He was finally able to see Merlin’s face again; he looked absolutely wrecked. Arthur felt his cock twitch at the sight, and he tugged at Merlin’s shaking arms, pulling him back onto his lap again. Merlin braced his hands on Arthur’s chest and met his gaze with black, hungry eyes. He positioned himself carefully and slowly began to sink down onto Arthur’s throbbing cock. Arthur’s mouth fell open and he moaned as Merlin’s body took him deep inside. His breath stuttered and he gripped Merlin’s hips tightly as he began to rock astride him.

Merlin went slowly at first, but with each gyration of his hips he took Arthur a tiny bit deeper and a tiny bit faster, until he was bouncing atop him mercilessly, their bodies slapping together, Merlin’s hard cock jutting up between his legs and dripping pre-cum onto Arthur’s stomach. Arthur threw his head back, his chest heaving. He couldn’t believe he had lasted this long. His eager hands scrabbled at Merlin, rubbing and stroking every inch of skin he could reach. Just when he felt he was ready to burst, Merlin arched his back and gave a deep moan, his cock suddenly pulsing thick cum all over Arthur’s chest. Arthur’s eyes went wide and his hands on Merlin’s hips dragged him down as deep as possible on Arthur’s cock. Merlin jerked, and his wings suddenly flared open, the white feathers spread wide, framing his shoulders. He looked ravished, and ethereal, and utterly beautiful, and Arthur couldn’t hold back any longer. His hips tipped upwards and he spilled inside Merlin, the pleasure rolling over him in endless waves coursing through his body.

Afterwards, Merlin collapsed next to him, boneless and trembling, and Arthur just had enough energy to drag the sheet over them and throw an arm across Merlin’s waist before they both fell asleep. 

  


***

 

In the morning, Arthur woke up to find a deliciously naked Merlin sprawled on his front next to him. Rubbing sleep-encrusted eyes, he rolled over and pressed his lips to Merlin’s forehead, his warm hand smoothing over his slightly stubbly cheek. Glancing down, he suddenly froze, then shook Merlin awake. 

“Merlin! __Merlin!__ ”

“What is it?” Merlin groused, heavy eyes opening to peer blearily at him. He woke up quickly when he caught sight of Arthur’s worried face. “Arthur?”

Arthur looked up at him. “Your wings… They’ve grown again…”

Merlin scrambled up in the bed. Arthur was right, and he didn’t need to see his reflection to check; he could feel the tips of his folded wings brushing against his buttocks, the feathers along the sides reaching beyond the width of his shoulders.

He looked at Arthur in panic. “I can’t hide this! What do I do?”

“You can’t go out. Merlin, you’ll have to stay in here, it’s too dangerous for you to go out into the castle!”

“But I can’t stay like this, Arthur, I can’t hide in your rooms forever! I’ve got to find a way to fix this!” Merlin sprang from the bed and started grabbing his scattered clothing, dragging his trousers on with shaking fingers.

“Merlin, you __can’t__  go out!” Arthur insisted, moving to grab Merlin’s arms and hold him still.

“Then… then… Gaius! I need to see Gaius!”

“Gaius?” Arthur asked, puzzled.

“He might be able to help, Arthur - I have to speak to him!”

“It’s too dangerous to involve anyone else, Merlin, you can’t risk this getting back to my father!”

“Gaius wouldn’t tell anyone, I know he wouldn’t. We can trust him. I trust him, Arthur.”

“With something as important as this?” Arthur asked sceptically, frowning with concern.

“I trust Gaius as much as I trust you,” Merlin replied softly. “I trust him with my life.”

  


***

 

Arthur had reluctantly acquiesced and, once dressed, had given Merlin a final, lingering kiss and gone in search of Gaius. While he waited, Merlin worked off his nerves by tidying up Arthur’s chambers and doing what he could to remove any traces of their night’s activity. He still felt stretched and somewhat sore where Arthur had been inside him, and his wings felt particularly sensitive to the slightest touch. He could barely look at Arthur’s bed and the mussed, soiled sheets without blushing, but the predicament he was in was proving a great distraction to any carnal thoughts, and by the time Arthur returned with Gaius, he was pacing anxiously in front of the fireplace. 

Gaius stepped into Arthur’s chambers and stopped short at the sight of Merlin. He said nothing, merely raised an eyebrow, as Merlin’s situation needed no explanation; his wings now too long to fit under his tunic, Merlin was standing half naked in front of the fireplace, the white wings framing him from behind, peeking out from beyond his shoulders all the way down to his hips. They gave a little flutter under Gaius’ sharp gaze, and Merlin started forwards, pleading words on his lips, as Gaius gave a long-suffering sigh.

“What do you think?” Arthur asked Gaius, getting straight to the point. “Can you help, Gaius?”

“Oh yes,” Gaius confirmed. Arthur and Merlin both gave a deep sigh of relief. “That is, I __could__  help, except that the King has outlawed magic.” Gaius eyed Arthur carefully. “I once encountered someone who magicked wings upon himself, many years ago, of course, before magic left Camelot. The poor fool thought it would be a good idea, but didn’t factor in his terrible fear of heights!” Gaius scoffed. “One flight was enough for him, and then I observed him utter the spell to remove the wings. But I cannot possibly engage in magical activity now, of course!” Gaius looked at Merlin and shrugged, then turned a quizzical eyebrow on Arthur.

Arthur looked between Gaius and Merlin. He hesitated, conflicted. He knew what he was asking was wrong, his father would be beside himself with fury if he found out, but Merlin’s __life__  was at stake!

“Gaius… I know I am asking much more of you than I ever should, but Merlin cannot stay like this, he cannot be seen with __wings__  in __Camelot__ , his life would instantly be forfeit! Please… I will take full responsibility for this, but I beg you, if you know the spell that will save Merlin, please…use it. Use magic, just this once. If you love Merlin, and I know you do, please help us.”

Gaius pretended to dither a minute longer, for appearance’s sake. Finally agreeing, he turned to Merlin, reached out his hands and intoned,

“Adenydd wedi mynd!”

Merlin gasped; his back was aflame with a curious tingling sensation. Peering over his shoulder, his eyes widened as he watched the beautiful wings quickly shrink, until finally the strange itching that he had felt constantly over the past days had disappeared and Arthur stepped closer and ran his hand over smooth, ridge-less skin, a look of wonder on his face.

Gaius’ eyebrow twitched again and he smirked, a knowing look on his face as he glanced between Merlin and Arthur. Merlin blushed and looked away.

Arthur turned to Gaius, his hand still resting gently on Merlin’s back. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, and Gaius bowed.

“My pleasure, sire. I am always willing to help, however I can. I am glad that Merlin is safe now.” He smiled at Merlin, looking genuinely relieved, and took his leave.

  


***

 

The full moon hung heavy in the night sky, her bright light pouring through the windows, illuminating the pair of lovers on the soft bed. Arthur sat back on his heels, his hands reverently exploring every inch of Merlin’s now wingless back. 

Leaning forwards, he pressed soft lips to the smooth skin, teasing him, his tongue darting out to caress the areas where Merlin had so recently been so sensitive. Merlin still shuddered underneath his ministrations, and when he grabbed Arthur’s hand and pulled it around his waist to wrap around his cock, he was already hard and moist at the tip; and when Arthur finally eased inside Merlin once more, Merlin moaned just as deeply as if Arthur had ruffled his feathers!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the story! It's the first one I've ever written for the Merlin fandom and I had great fun writing it. However, apologies for any plot holes! Of which I'm sure there are many. 
> 
> Gaius' spell at the end is Welsh. I literally entered 'wings be gone' into Google Translate and copied what it came up with, as the closest it had to the area of Camelot, and I fully imagine that anyone reading this who is Welsh would tell me it's probably gibberish, which is fine by me - it's not really meant to translate into anything modern, I was just too lazy to research Brythonic...


End file.
